


Merecemos

by Hooda



Series: Anthology [6]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars, Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back
Genre: Angst, F/M, angst angst angst, cassian doubting his self worth, i got no chill, mission gone wrong sort of, one of them almost dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 04:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10734228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hooda/pseuds/Hooda
Summary: Cassian’s throat feels so dry he can barely ask: “And Jyn?”A mirthless laughter crackles through the frozen air. Kes shakes his head and he reaches into his pocket to pull out a second pair of tags. These are equally covered in drying blood, but the corners of the metal square are pressed in from the few times Cassian caught Jyn biting on the edges around her name nervously. The Kyber dangles with it, leather cord and metal chains braided together as one.Cassian’s chest convulses._______Merecemos: (spanish) we deserve; do we deserve?





	Merecemos

**Author's Note:**

> Barely any edits. Literally just a piece I half put together between study breaks. Not much motivation for it, but it'll do :)

_ Love is friendship that has caught fire. It is quiet and understanding, mutual confidence, sharing and forgiving. It is loyalty through good and bad times. It settles for less than perfection makes allowances for human weaknesses  _ ~ Ann Landers

 

_______

 

He knows the moment he is off the ramp and onto solid ground - no matter how frozen over with ice it may be - that something is wrong. It is in the way the technicians keep their heads down and their eyes averted when his ship lands, or in the way a few idle soldiers mutter between each other, eyes flickering to Cassian’s filthy form.

Hoth’s frigid air settles onto his skin like a second layer. Despite his parka covering the majority of his upper body, the chill slips through any crack in the shell of warm clothes he layers himself in before landing.

His boots make crunching noises on the ice as he makes his way around soldiers and pilots alike. They mingle by the awnings leading out of the hangars like flies attracted to the buzz of life that the cavernous space brings. Screens against one wall flash lists of squad assignments and training. Some stand before the screens with their decorated helmets tucked under their arms and letting the soft light of the screens ghost over their tired faces.

Leia stands front and center in Command’s briefing hall. Panes of glass maps litter the room, green and blue lines cutting across the panes so precisely. Attendants crowd around their communication consoles. Their voices mix in the din of the room and some hustle from different sides of the room, never stopping for a moment to themselves.

The princess stands amongst the midst of activity, pressed white thermal wear fitting her body like a glove. Cassian once again wonders if Leia is such a great actress to have put off the cold like it was nothing, or if her clothes really were as warm as no one would have believed. She beckons Cassian with a single motion of her hand.

Kes Dameron stands on the other end of the hall, face pensive and hands clasped behind his back, speaking in a low voice with another general of the Alliance. The small leap of warmth that leaps in Cassian’s chest fills him briefly. If Lieutenant Dameron is on base, the rest of his Pathfinder team could not be much further away.

The debriefing is quicker than he expected. Leia makes quick work of taking the chips laden with information from his hands and tucking them securely into her breast pocket. Her fingers tug the elaborate circlet of braids on her head, pushing a few loose pins back into place. Someone begins calling her name from across the room.

“You look dead on your feet, Major,” Leia grins and gives him a slight pat on the arm before turning to disappear into the muddle of attendants calling across the room at each other. “You have enough time on base before Draven calls you for the next assignment.”

With that, she leaves Cassian to his own thoughts and devices, which only focus on finding Jyn now that he is dismissed from further work. The idea of laying low for a few days with nothing more than enough rations to cook a decent meal with and her as his company is enough to light the warmth in his chest into full bloom.

It caresses his exhausted mind as he makes for the door Kes stands by. The lieutenant’s face is strong and a few inches higher than Cassian’s, but the length of facial hair is almost the same. Kes stands with his arms crossed tightly, eyebrows knit together.

Kes’ eyes meet Cassian’s. The ideas float away at the haunted look in his eyes.

“What happened?” Cassian asks, voice low,  the moment he pulls the Pathfinder out into the privacy of the hallway. “How did the extraction go?”

“I don’t think you want to know that answer,” Kes says quietly. His eyes take to a spot on the ground between them. The toe of his boot moves to kick at a piece of ice. It skitters across the white floor.

“ _ What happened, _ ” Cassian hisses. One of his hands snaps out to grab the lapel of Kes’ jacket and tugs down hard to shake him out of his stupor.

The worst scenarios that he long pushed to the back of his mind come forward in that instant. Blood strewn across the stone platforms of Imperial camps. Sightless eyes with the vibrant and broken life absent from them. Hand inches from a blaster that could have… 

“Everything was going as planned, but there were extra Stormtroopers at the ready. We were outnumbered and running for our lives. Erso and Yael took the rear of the group.” Kes stops, sighs and runs a hand through his short clipped hair.

“They took the most hits, but never said anything until we were breaking atmo. There was so much blood… the silence when we realize what they did was unbearable.”

A haze blinds Cassian and he can all of a sudden imagine it all.

He sees the familiar untucked bangs streaked with blood from unidentified gashes and blaster burns. Her body crumpling onto the cool floor of the ship’s hold, landing right in front of her safe comrades and escaped prisoners. He can hear the agonizing press of silence before the shock finally settles in and the howling in agony begins.

“Yael… did not make it.” A chain of bloody dogtags circles tightly around Kes’ fingers.

Cassian’s throat feels so dry he can barely ask: “And Jyn?”

A mirthless laughter crackles through the frozen air. Kes shakes his head and he reaches into his pocket to pull out a second pair of tags. These are equally covered in drying blood, but the corners of the metal square are pressed in from the few times Cassian caught Jyn biting on the edges around her name nervously. The Kyber dangles with it, leather cord and metal chains braided together as one.

Cassian’s chest convulses.

“Saw raised one hell of a soldier. Never knows when to give up does she?”

An unthinkable numbing starts behind Cassian’s eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

Kes laughs, this time a little louder and shakingly. It  _ almost _ reaches his eyes.

“Jyn says for you to hold on to these for her until she is out of the bacta tanks. Or surgery.” Under the blistering lights of Hoth’s hallways, Kes reaches forward with calloused hands for Cassian’s. He lets the intertwined necklaces fall softly.

“She came home.”

_______

He finds her right as they pull her limp body from the tanks of blue bacta. They leave her in a simple pair of undergarments and her hair tied up furiously to keep her hair from being a floating mess. Blue droplets drip from every corner of Jyn’s body.

Droids and doctors alike crowd the tank.

The doctors are ready at the hatch at the top to swaddle her like a newborn into a large blanket. The freezing temperatures of Hoth could kill if not dealt with properly. Cassian watches with her dog-tags biting into his palms as a droid carefully pulls the oxygen mask from Jyn’s pale face.

_______

There are scars now where the gaping holes from the shots once were. They tingle for an unknown reason when she brushes her fingers gently over them, like they are aware of how close she brushed death so long ago.

Jyn especially loves how Cassian dotes over them, one by one, with his lips as he makes his way further and further down her body. He praises and loves her so fiercely it puts every other monk or priest to shame.

Sometimes, in the dark protection of night, he recalls the days spent at her bedside before he was forced off-planet on another mission. He still apologizes for not being there when the oxygen mask was taken off some days after the incident, no matter how many times Jyn has to tell him all that mattered was that he was there at all.

“I was so afraid of losing you, I knew that it was the universe’s way of reminding me I never deserved you,” Cassian dares to tell her one time.

“You deserve this-” Jyn pulled his hand in between her own, “- and more.”

“Do I?”

Jyn leans forward until her palms cupped his jaw line. The edges of his thickening beard tickled the soft skin of her hands.

“Absolutely.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments - pos or neg! :)


End file.
